


The Man in the Field

by WardenCommanderCousland



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenCommanderCousland/pseuds/WardenCommanderCousland
Summary: Captain David Anderson is sent on a mission to observe a batarian slave raide. Takes place about 15 years before the events of ME1.





	The Man in the Field

David Anderson took a sip from his canteen and surveyed the field ahead of him. Jobs like this one made him hate being an N7. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to march into the colony, guns blazing. But his orders were to wait.

“You still there?” Kahlee’s voice pinged into his comm.

“Yeah. Just watching another human colony go up in flames.” Anderson sighed. “Damn these batarians. The Alliance isn’t even letting me look for survivors. They want the intel on who’s behind the slaving raids and that’s it.”

“David, you knew what this mission was going to entail.”

She was right. Alliance command warned him early on that he wouldn’t be able to save anyone, that his only mission was to identify the head of the batarian slave ring and that any other actions would be considered interference.

Anderson switched gears. He needed Kahlee’s voice to keep him awake. It had been days since the raid began and he hadn’t slept since the fires were first lit. “How’s the school?”

“We’re receiving our first group of students tomorrow, a few biotics who weren’t old enough to be considered finished by Jump Zero.” Kahlee sounded hopeful. “I think we’ll be ready for them. Hopefully they aren’t too scarred by their experience at Gagarin.”

“That Alenko kid in the group?”

“No, the Alliance thinks he’s old enough to receive formal training. I’m not sure we could handle him anyway. He’s got a lot of anger.”

Rightfully so, Anderson thought, if what he’d heard was true. He shifted his weight, letting his camp pillow roll under his ribs, and stretched out his neck. Seventy-two hours of staring down a sniper scope were getting to him.

“David?”

“Just thinking,” he said casually. “Maybe I will take that command position Hackett offered me. I’m getting too old for field work.”

Kahlee paused. “What position is that?”

“A group of Alliance engineers are teaming up with turians to design a new class of frigates. Hackett put my name forward to potentially lead the new fleet. It would be years before I got my own ship, but I’d be home more often in the interim.” Less time not hunting slavers, at any rate.

Kahlee stifled a yawn. Anderson whispered her a good night, telling her he loved her, and killed the comm. She needed to be fresh for Grisham Academy’s first class.

The fires from the colony glowed orange against the night sky. Anderson wished he was anywhere but Mindoir, but at least the intel got him there before the attack began. They were on the right track.

A shape moved in the grass, not two hundred yards from his location. While he knew his orders were to observe and not fight, he couldn’t imagine the Alliance would sanction him if he were actually threatened. Just to be safe, Anderson activated his omnitool’s cloaking device.

The shape kept moving forward, slowly. It was small and as it drew nearer, Anderson realized it was a human. A teenage girl, from the looks of it. None of his orders indicated what he should do if the colonists got away, if they were seeking refuge.

“Alvarez, I need an extraction,” Anderson whispered to his mission’s shuttle pilot, orbiting somewhere a mile above Mindoir. “Myself and a civilian.”

“Sir, the Alliance said no assistance.”

“It’s a kid. I’m not leaving her out here to die.” Anderson said, removing the cloaking device and standing up.

The girl stopped, now less than 50 feet from his position. Her dress was torn, a large gash slashed across her left leg. Her arms bore fresh, angry looking burns. She was crying. “Please don’t shoot me,” she whimpered.

Anderson held his hand out to her. He could hear the echo of the Alliance drop shuttle overhead. “I’m with the Alliance. We’ll get you out of here.”

The girl took his hand and collapsed. How long had she been hiding out in there, waiting to escape?

The shuttle hovered behind them, blowing debris across the field. Anderson slung his rifle over his back and picked up the girl into a carry. She barely weighed anything. “My name’s Anderson. Can you tell me yours?”

She sniffed, looking at the shuttle. “Mira Shepard.”


End file.
